The Fleeting Moon
by Starriecat
Summary: She wonders how fleeting love is when he can no longer meet her eyes and holds different hands. [Prequel to Its Okay to Cry.]


Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, Sasuke would be at the bottom of a ditch in a speedo by now.

Author's Note: Inspired by a question that's been burning a hole through my head. I'm in the process of writing the sequel and anyone who takes 10-20 seconds to leave a review (sorry, flames don't count) gets it dedicated to them.  It should be up by the 20th. Enjoy!

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The sound is deafening. It drowns out all hopes of resting her exhausted mind-to just let her eyes drift shut and-and _forget_-**that question.** It doesn't come nearly as often as it used to, but when it does it whistles through immovable layers of dust in the tiny cracks of her mind where forbidden thoughts have long been exiled. And it shatters the air's fragile structure with every word, like a tree struck with kunai slowly collapsing one-by-one. On nights when the house seems far too empty to hold anything but the blood-broken walls, it comes, drowning out the images- the weapons that line the cheap rusting windows, drilled in with hidden, screaming questions, and their ten-year silence that penetrates down to the floor's very veins.

The question comes on nights when the usually soft blades of grass are still and dig like chainsaws into her skin, and the sky is so dark she feels like everyone around her is drenched in black.

_**Is love even worth it if it always ends?**_

Why does it change? Change like a child who could steal your heart with a glance and sweet smile- and then in an instant throw a fit that burned ice down to cold flames and froze over any waves of warmth that had started to thaw skin.

How could someone kill the one person they once trusted every inch of their _life_ with?

By now her longing gazes for anything but black had vaporized to whispers. She was an adult now, no longer the young, furious kunoichi always searching for someone to question and blame. They had killed each other long ago-of their _own_ will, she couldn't pretend anymore- and left her alone in that dark, forsaken house. Yes. That had been their choice as well.

Her solitude had been fate. She couldn't deny it. And she couldn't ask them how one blinding passion could switch places with another deadly passion.

But she could see it, in him. From teammates who could read underneath every one of the other's actions and words-she still remembered the way his fingers twitched ever-so-slightly and that instant white-hot flash of a smirk he gave when he was hungry for a spar- to two lovers with something always lingering between them there or not quite there- his hot breath on hers as his arms shot out between her and the ground instinctively, his white gaze fixed on her as though searching for a key, her cheeks flushing fury-red before he looked away suddenly and she caught something unidentifiable shadowed in pearls, feeling her own captivated look repulse from the feeling that neither of them held the key.

And finally to what maybe had been inevitable days when they both stopped meeting to train, when neither could look up at each other when they happened to pass each other by (although he could have looked at her from any direction with his 360 degree vision), and when she had spent long afternoons throwing weapon after weapon at little gusts of twirling winds and cursing when still none of them hit.

…And the single seconds caught in a different dimension when she crossed the street and instantly felt his presence without even a glance to know it was him, cold and hard from the youth that the Hyuuga clan had squeezed and squeezed away from him until nothing was left but the bitter aftertaste on his frozen lips. She could feel his steady gaze brush on her with regret and guilt and shake with an anxiety he had long mastered at hiding and she had long mastered at finding.

And he brushed past her without a word, his hair stroking her face like silk threads, and it was that single precious, precious second where time and fate and memories didn't exist that a sneaky, near-invisible smile could tint her face with the rarest light at the sensation before reality pressed play again. And then all she could see was his back as the cursed Hyuuga clan robe flew out from behind him, reminding her of things to come that she was not a part of.

And she would never see those eyes again, clear and white and bright like the moon like she remembered. After all, he was the night, cold and dark and fleeting, and it didn't matter if she could hit ten of every ten targets, for he could never be hers again.

**The End.**

Author's Note: So that's my first attempt at Neji / TenTen! I know it was short, but I intended it to be like that. And yes, the grammar was atrocious, but its 1:37 in the morning so hopefully you can overlook that. Any other critique or comments-let me at 'em!

**A/N #2:** I edited it to make the length more concise and the read easier on the brain. Did you like it better than the first version? Please review! Even a sentence will be loved. And for more incentive, I'm posting the sequel/companion fic soon so reviewers (not flamers) get it dedicated to them! Thanks.

If the story didn't really explain itself, I apologize and present the facts here-

TenTen's parents killed each other when she was young.

Neji was forced into arranged marriage for the good of his clan.


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